


Island of Sanctuary

by Mai_Blade



Category: Harvest Moon: Island of Happiness
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Multiple Pairings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Reader-Insert, mentions of bullying, referenced suicidal feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mai_Blade/pseuds/Mai_Blade
Summary: An island is a piece of land surrounded by water, a thing separate from the mainland. Fate brought you to an abandoned one, and you've helped bring it back to life.When the dead walk the earth, the island you call home becomes a defensible place, a refuge.A sanctuary.But.Even here, death comes.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Reader & Other(s)
Kudos: 5





	Island of Sanctuary

**The gates of Hell are terrible to behold, are they not?**

**~E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly**

* * *

It’s the middle of the night when the ringing of the phone wakes you up. You’re startled out of sleep and jolt awake, momentarily frightened by the strange noise before you realize what it is. Annoyed, you pull your pillow over your head and debate ignoring it, but it keeps ringing.

Unease begins curling in your gut as you realize that the phone wouldn’t be ringing at this hour of the night if it wasn’t important. Yet, what news couldn’t wait for the dawn? After all, even if it was one of your parents calling because of a family emergency, it’s not as though you could leave the island in the middle of the night. It’s an _island_. The mainland is hours away.

The keeps ringing oppressively, and you can’t stand it anymore. Flinging off your blanket, you sit up and slide your feet into a pair of slippers and cross the dark house to answer the damn phone.

There is a moment of blessed silence when you pick up the receiver, then you have it next to your head and you—don’t even get the chance to speak first.

It’s your father, saying your name in a tone you’ve never heard before. He sounds tired, and shocked, and horrified, and yet not quite any of those. You’ve… never heard him talk like this before. Dad is a blue-collar worker, and he basically hauls things for a living. You’ve heard him speak when he was exhausted, and this sounds like that too, but also not.

You wish you could unhear it.

He says your name several times in that same disconcerting voice. It’s only when he asks if you’re there that you snap out of it and reply back.

(“Thank god.”)

Not that he’s ever been religious, or that you’ve ever told him the Harvest Goddess really exists and that you’ve spoken with her.

(“Listen to me, and don’t interrupt.”)

Your brow furrows, and you already want very much to interrupt, but you don’t. You can’t quite muster up the courage to speak when he’s sounding so… _strange_.

(“There were rumors. I didn’t… I didn’t put much stock into them. Superstitious nonsense, I thought.”)

Your hand grips the curled wire connecting the receiver to the base.

_The Harvest Goddess with a worried look on her face each time you tossed her an offering. The Witch Princess staring at you and only once saying she advised you to stay on the island._

(“I just went about with my life. Going to work. Sometimes going out for a drink with the crew. Helping your mother with the groceries. Just… burying my head in the sand.”)

_Vaughn being tense whenever he came back to the island. Glaring suspiciously at anyone he didn’t recognize as a resident. Shane the fisherman casually asking about moving to the island and not giving a straight answer as to why._

You shivered in the dark of your farmhouse, wishing you’d thought to turn a light on before being leashed to the phone.

(“I know, I know we didn’t part on the best of terms. You were only seventeen when you up and left after that mess at school.”)

The bullying, the despair; even though it was years ago and is now no longer a concern, you bite your lip at the memory. One day, you just couldn’t stand the thought of going back. You’d felt like you were standing at the edge of the cliff and that if you went back, that would be the day those awful girls pushed you off it. Dad hadn’t understood, just told you to man up and deal with it. Shouting about your mental health, being yelled at that mental health doesn’t put food on the table, that you need your education. Mom coughing in the background, upset. Leaving, slamming the door; running to the docks and getting on the first ship you could afford a ticket onto.

Dad said your name.

(“I want you to know that we love you.”)

A cold chill ran over your body, making your knees shake.

“Dad?”

(“Your mother and I love you very much. Your letters filled us with pride. We… we were going to visit you this year.”)

_Past tense?_

“ _Dad?_ ”

(“There are monsters walking this earth, wearing human skin. And they bite. They’re hungry.”)

You open your mouth to speak, choking on a lump in your throat, but again, you don’t get the chance. He says your name again, empty and hollow and on the verge of tears.

(“ _I’m so hungry._ ”)


End file.
